


Ten Songs of Sansa

by tempisfugit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempisfugit/pseuds/tempisfugit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten Sansa drabbles (some gen, some various pairings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Songs of Sansa

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the gameofships "Shippy Sea Shanty" Challenge  
>  **The rules:**  
>  1\. Pick a character or pairing  
> 2\. Put your music on shuffle/random and start playing songs  
> 3\. For each song, write something inspired by the song related to your selected character/pairing. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs either  
> 4\. Write for 10 songs and post your results.  
> 

**1\.  "From Finner" - Of Monsters and Men**  
all alone, but we're so happy (Sansa/Jaime)

The air tastes of salt and spices, and the markets thrum with exotic tongues, caressing her lovingly, thrillingly, as she makes her way to the small building she now calls home. Jaime lays on a stone bench in the courtyard, hair shining in the sun, his shirt unbuttoned and his chest bare. She blushes as he meets her eye, embarrassed still by this foreign gown and her bare breast. The fabric is silky and cool against her skin, his lips are soft and sweet as they meet hers, and she sighs languidly, drunkenly almost, as he takes her, and all thoughts of winter and thrones and death fall, fall, fall away.  


 **2\.  "Up Around the Bend" - Creedance Clearwater Revival**  
just as fast as my feet can fly (Sansa/Jon)

Jon and Robb run through the Godswood, making for the blood-red heart tree at its center, leaves crunching in their wake. She stumbles trying to keep up, her peals of laughter high and happy, and Jon turns back to help her to her feet with a steady arm.

Her hair dances in the wind, like branches of a tree during a winter’s storm, and he cannot stop himself from tracing a long finger along her pale jaw. She smiles, and he smiles, grabbing her small hand in his bigger one, and together they race through the trees.  


 **3\. "The Scientist" - Coldplay**  
oh and i rush to the start (Sansa - gen)

She tosses and turns as the fever wracks her thin body, the faces dancing across her vision like flames flickering in the hearth. Father with his sad, so sad, eyes, his head falling slowly. Arya with her dirty fingernails and chewed lip and calloused hands. Bran with his broken legs, Robb and Grey Wind, Rickon, Jon, Mother. There are other faces too, less welcome ones: golden-crowned monsters with cruel emerald eyes, a face on fire, a birdlike man with a welcoming smile and a calculating gaze.

She wakes suddenly, buried under heavy furs in a blazing chamber. Maester Luwin speaks softly to someone – Mother, maybe – and she catches some of his words ( _can’t go... King’s Landing... weak_ ).

She wants to argue ( _I’m to be his Queen_ ), but her mouth is too dry and her eyelids are too heavy, and so she slips back into sleep, determined to mention it in the morning.  


 **4\. "Secrets" - One Republic**  
i'm gonna give all my secrets away (Sansa/Jaime)

“I hated him, you know,” she says softly, finishing another cup of the sour wine. Her face is flushed – with drink or fear or relief, she does not know – and her heavy head is pounding as tears spill quietly from her bright blue eyes. “Your son was a monster.”

His twitch does not escape her notice, and she wants to go on, to twist the knife deeper, to tell him of Cersei’s exploits, her lovers, her crimes, but she loses her courage, spinning the cup between her fingers nervously.

“He was,” he says, voice strained and raw as he reaches for her. His golden hand is cold and hard against her skin, sending sparks shooting through her fingers – real or imagined, she does not know.  


 **5\. "Where I Stood" - Missy Higgins**  
who am i without you (Sansa/Robb)

Jeyne Westerling is nowhere near as beautiful as she is. Her hair shines – _it cannot burn, like mine_ – and her eyes sparkle – _they cannot drown, like mine_ – but she is kind and sweet and good, and Sansa cannot hate her, try though she might. She stands at Robb’s side, her thin lips – _they cannot kiss like mine_ – forming a shy smile as she greets the rugged men of the north, as he introduces her, with a proud, loving gaze, to his men.

His eyes meet hers across the room, sad, guilty eyes that speak volumes. ( _I’m sorry. Forgive me. I love you. It could never have been you. I wanted to come for you._ ) She looks at him deeply for a moment before turning. _Her heart will love better than mine, for mine is turned to ice._  


 **6\. "The Gymnast, High Above the Ground" - Colin Meloy**  
you've been slipping, been slipping away (Sansa/Petyr)

She lies on the bed like one who has fallen from a great height – hair fanned across the pillow, arms bent, legs splayed – and she thinks that she can feel the snowflakes kissing her tender flesh, the wind caressing her curves, the leaves cradling her lithe body. Winter is silent and peaceful and still, and she can hear the beating of her heart.

And as he leans over her, kissing her tenderly, caressing, cradling, she closes her eyes and slips away.  


 **7\. "Almost Love" - A Fine Frenzy**  
the sweetest sadness in your eyes (Sansa/Joffrey)

In dreams, he is still her perfect prince: his kisses are sweet and innocent, stolen in corridors while his Kingsguard looks away pointedly, his hands are strong and gentle as they guide her around the floor in a dance, his words are kind and loving as he describes her beauty, her virtue, her wisdom.

She thinks of her dream lover as she recites her courtesies - sometimes she thinks that she sees hints of him in those green eyes and she finds that a part of her isn't lying at all.  


 **8\. "Down" - Jason Walker**  
i thought I could fly (Sansa/?)

She extends her hand to him but he bats it away, frustrated and angry. She speaks to him, but he responds with sarcasm, derision, and condescension. She smiles, but he laughs and mocks and japes. She says she loves him, but he says that she lies, that she is incapable of love, that she does not know what love is.

She does not extend her hand to him again. She barely speaks. She never smiles. She does not love him.

After the wedding, after months of sorrow and loneliness and silence, he extends his hand, he speaks to her, he smiles, he says he loves her, and he wishes that he had never met her, that he had never known her, because then he would not know what was missing.  


 **9\. "Comedy Tonight" - A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum**  
something for lovers, liars, and clowns (Sansa/Jaime) 

The audience roars as the leading players emerge to take a bow. Lord Baelish leans towards her, using the noise as an excuse to whisper at her ear, “my favorite character in the piece, a role of enormous variety and nuance..."

With a huff, she waves her hand to silence him. The applause dies as the Queen in the North rises.

“A fine performance, we were quite moved by the star-crossed lovers. Tomorrow, however, we would have something more cheerful – that one with the eunuchs and the courtesans and the mistaken identities will do rather well. Something bawdy.” And, with a whirl of skirts and fanfare, she leaves the theater.

In her wake, the Lord Commander tries to contain his smirk.  She does not share his bed after tragedies, but comedies...  


 **10\. "Falling Slowly" - The Frames**  
we've still got time (Sansa/Jaime)

There's something about her that calls to him, loath as he is to admit it, and he finds himself thinking about her throughout his day - the way she looks when she wakes, eyes blinking in the bright sun, red hair tangled on a white pillow; how soft her skin is where her neck meets her shoulder or between her breasts. Months pass and he does not understand his curiosity - it must be loneliness and a broken heart and a desire for revenge, he thinks - but he does not want to understand.

She catches him staring one evening, and her eyes are not cold or shocked or angry but hopeful and loving and curious, appraising him just as he studies her. He brushes against her as he leaves the table and she shivers, not from fear but desire.

His hand burns brightly in the morning sun, but her hair is brighter still, spread across his chest. He does not think of revenge, or loneliness, or his broken heart - just of her soft, soft skin at the hollow of her neck, of her eyelashes fluttering open against his shoulder, of sweet sighs, and he knows that he could spend forever being curious.  



End file.
